The Twinkle In Our Stars
by Allison Diamond
Summary: Fondness. Admiration. Veneration. After a compelling discovery, Nell and Callen find themselves enjoying the other's company. (Nallen's Friendship/Eventually Nallen's romance). Finished with an inclusive ending. I've lost the direction in which this was going.
1. Part I

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own NCIS: LA or any of its characters._

**A/N: **_I started this a couple weeks ago as a __short story, but seeing as I like to write stories with incomplete endings, I decided to expand this. I'm already on the second part; have the third and fourth part detailed and ready to go. This is sort of a love story in eight parts. For those who don't ship Nallen, and decided to try it out, whether by accidentally clicking or not, I would be very grateful if you can be considerate of my choice. Takes place before "Kill House" and starts off in a different universe. This is my first time writing for NCIS: LA, and I don't know if I delve into Nell's and Callen's characters as well as I hope. The posting of this will go as follows: once I have two to three parts finished, I'll post; most likely every two weeks. _

* * *

**PART I**

_"We are our stars, and we deserve to twinkle." — Marilyn Monroe._

Nell's in too deep.

Literally in deep shit — this undercover mission isn't working for her — she feels like she's giving out too much information. Agents are trained to shield their emotions well, to perfect the blank expression, to master deception. Somehow, she is unconvinced in her abilities to execute those very skills.

She isn't used to being the 'bait' nor is she used to being a field agent. First and foremost, she's an intelligence analyst, a pretty darn good one too, if not the best. Unraveling deceptive information is what's she is good at, but going out on the field, that's another story. It's not like she isn't good with a gun; she takes pride in her accurate shooting range.

Whenever a gun is placed in her hand, she becomes enthralled by it: how easily it fits in her hand. It feels almost invigorating, and it terrifies her how this object is the destruction of so many. Appalls her really. To think, she has access to a gun, and what if its power corrupts her. _She wouldn't let it._

Plus, compared to the rapturous thrill she gets when it involves decrypting information, there's nothing better than that; a gun can never replace that.

That is all it takes for her to feel exuberant again. The _irresistible _yet _shady _young gentleman next to her gives her a smile that seems real, but the way his hazel eyes turn darker tell her otherwise. The bilious look that is written deep into his expression informs her that he's up to no good. The way he crossed his feet, willfully pointing his toe toward her, reminds her that this man is not to trusted.

This unsub, if he is the one, has a thing for cute females that are decent enough to not flash any cleavage, and cover themselves up appropriately: no tight dresses that expose one's curves, no dresses below the knees, or no 'V' shaped neckline. Traditional women. She fits in his category: short, cute, and young. Precisely, why she is chosen for this mission.

She has been studying his expression ever since she arrives, but he remains inscrutable, until she delves into his character, long and hard. Gradually, he begins to reveal his true motion: to see if Nell would invite him back to her place. He _wants_, no, _needs_, to test her character, to figure out if she is worthy of his trust. So far, she passes with flying colors.

"Nell," she hears Callen in her earpiece, "Check if he has a scar down his neck. Another thing, check for his tat. If he's our guy, he should have a sword tat on his hand. I remember it when I ribbed his sleeve off. Be safe, Nell, he's dangerous."

Nell rolls her eyes, intended for Callen, who is right across the room. She might look small and fragile; be known as the tech girl, but she can sure as hell take care of herself (even if she isn't the most skillful fighter in the group). More than capable, actually. She can handle a gun. Those strong legs of her can most likely escape if that's her last option, thanks to hiking. _I can do it, trust me, _she wants to yell.

Then again, it's nice knowing that your team is on the lookout for you.

"Lean in closer. See if he's our guy," Callen speaks into the headset, loud enough for Nell to understand him, and quiet enough so that no one suspects a thing.

Flashing him a 'I know what I'm doing' look, she picks up her teacup, her fingers circle around the rim of the cup. Taking small sips, she smiles at the young man across her, and resist a sigh as the warm liquid makes it down her, immediately sending a relax signal to her brain. She eyes the delicious lemon cakes with an irresistible desire. She doesn't know what came over her, but all she wants, is to devour those lemon cakes.

It takes all of the strength she has to resist sinking her teeth in one of the cakes. She needs to focus her attention on the case, and as Callen puts it, she is wasting time. But with a guy like the unsub, she finds that taking long and deliberate steps are necessary. He has this shield over himself, and one bad move, mission over. To capture him, one must understand his moves, to really catch him.

"Clarissa, you want those lemon cakes? Just have one, I don't mind," he says, as if informing her that she needs his permission. His voice, soft and pleasant, sends shivers down her spine, as she remembers how he seduces his victims. Charming as he is, women should be wary of a man who permits how you dress and what you eat. A man who wants to control you. Yet, there's something dark and sexy, that draws some women to men like him.

The entire evening, Stephen, the young man, harasses her or Clarissa Stevens, her cover, telling her how to act, how to sit, how to eat, and how to be ladylike. It really irks her. She really do want to cuff the bastard if Callen permits it. Then she remembers that if he isn't the guy, then… she wouldn't mind ruining that suave suit of his.

"I don't really want them now. Sort of lost the taste for lemon cakes."

Stephen reaches for a lemon cake, and hands it to her. He looks her down with furrowed eyebrows, and a clenched jaw. Words didn't need to be spoken to understand what he's implying.

Keeping her cover intact, Nell takes the lemon cake from him, and takes a bite. This guy is really exasperating her. His nonverbal threats are just pathetic. If she could be herself, god knows what she would have done with him, probably empty the pot of hot steaming tea on his face. Shooting would be just too damn easy. He has to suffer for her mistreatment tonight.

_Fuck, why was she having juvenile thoughts, this wasn't like her. _She is used to crazy men and women in her line of work. Of course, she's usually behind the computer along with Eric. Eric's such a sweet and very agreeable guy. They share a lot of traits: intelligence, understanding of analyzing cryptic information, and decoding it, the same quirkiness. His crush on her isn't oblivious, and once, his feelings of her were requited. Now, she just has a deep admiration for him. She wants a man, tough and gentle. Strong and mysterious. Eric doesn't possess all of those traits.

Stealing a glance across the room without Stephen noticing, _someone like Callen_, she decides. _Those strong arms of him wrapped around her, the feel of her body pressed against him, those sexy lips of his nibbling at her own, the feel of his subtle beard across her skin, and those fingers of his gently smoothing her hair. What the heck is she thinking about? _She has developed a crush on him for a long time. There is an air of mystery around him, and the experience he has in the job and in life, leaves her wanting more. _She was completing loosing it. She just hope he didn't read into it. Or god forbids, Stephen. _

"Clarissa!" She is snapped out of her absurd thoughts by the roughness in Stephen's voice. "We should get going now. I'll drop you home. I don't like that you came here by yourself, especially with creeps hanging around. Lord knows, what they will do to a pretty girl like you. I worry for you."

Even though, Stephen is an attractive man, his attitude is not very appealing. She places her hand in the crook of his elbow as they leave the cafe. She tugs at the sleeves of the flattering well-fitted blue dress, smooths the creases on the clinged-in-waist, and rubs her green flats in an unfashionable desire across the floor.

Callen follows her, she thinks; she barely makes out his shadow.

_It is time to finish this off._ She reaches in for a chaste kiss, and checks his neck for the scar. Running her hand down it, just to check if it's really there, Stephen growls and roughly pull her hand away. She makes a lame attempt at apologizing. Once more, she leans in, and this time, she kisses him as hard she can manage, moving her hand across his chest, then to his arm. Carefully, she rolls his sleeves up, but finds no tattoo. Stephen is about to break the kiss, but she kisses him again, this time, as roughly as she can possibly manage. Rolling his other sleeves up, to maintain her cover, she moves her fingers in a seductive way across his skin. There it is.

She breaks free of the kiss. The amazing light from this desolate neighborhood allows Nell to see the scar and the sword tattoo. _It's the guy, all right. _

"Icing to the cake," she mutters softly into her watch. The codeword for it's him.

"What was that?" Stephen presses his lips into a tight grin.

"Ice. It's frigid out here like ice." She fakes a shivering.

"Nell, stay put. We're coming in."

It is at that moment that Nell hates that she is so close to him.

"You were spying on me?" His eyes glow with what she only can describe as an undeniable flame of deep hatred.

"No, I wasn't. You see… I have an over-protective older brother. He checked in on me, every now and then."

"I thought you were different from the rest. How wrong was I?" He laughs, a choleric laugh. "You're just like them. Whores who can't remain faithful. Like my mother."

"I can assure you I'm not like the rest of them, whoever they may be."

Stephen raises a hand and strikes her across the cheek. Hard. Nell almost stumbles due to the impact of the blow.

"I'll show you how a lady should be like." He pulls out a dagger from his pocket, and slides it across her skin. "Don't worry, you'll be happier. I've to just remove that pretty mouth of yours." The knife continues to glide across her cheeks, leaving a few cuts in the process.

Pressing the knife deeper into her skin, Nell searches for a distraction, any. Using her free hand, she swipes a blow to his face. That surprises him long enough for Nell to pull out her gun. God, he shows sighs of vacuousness by leaving every one of her limbs free.

"You won't pull that trigger, Clarissa. You aren't strong enough."

He really underestimates her. One, two, three, she pulls the trigger. It hits him in the arm. _Her vision must have crappy; it only explained her off- shoot._

"Oh, you bitch," he screams, wringing his hand in pain as he tears a piece of cloth from his shirt and wraps it around the bullet wound. The bullet just graze his hand."You're gonna be sorry for doing that."

She whispers in her headset, "I think I got him. He needs an ambulance."

Letting a hist out, Stephen says, "They all thought just because I didn't tie them up, they could get away. Oh, you should have heard their screams. That pitiable sound." Those hazel irises of his reflect vile memories, that even Nell didn't want to understand. "The whores figured out that the damages were irreversible when I was done with them. It was a pity; they were pretty, but that tongue of theirs just had to go."

He continues, "Elise, the marine, now she was special. Never heard a women screamed that much. So very much like my mother. I craved very lovely details on her just like dad did to my whore of a mother. Both of them committed adultery." Stephen spits on the ground.

"What shall I do with you, Clarissa? You are different from the rest of them, but shooting me was a bad choice on your part."

Before she has time to process it all, Stephen moves behind her, and shoves her roughly on the graffiti covered wall. He squeezes her mouth open, carefully looking inside of it. Murmuring, he snakes his tongue down her throat for a few brief seconds, and releases her in a disgusted fashion. Nell resists a gag relax when his mouth came into contact with hers.

"You're not like the rest of them." He holds his head in his hands. "You… you're… just… nothing like them."

Nell hints the confused theme in his voice, and takes that as her cue. She raises her leg up, and kicks him in the stomach, sending him tumbling down. "You got that right. Why did you do it? Because your mother was unfaithful?" She shakes her head; _he destroys his and those women's life just because of an unfaithful mother. That's just plain stupid._

Callen arrives behind her. "Nice. I never undermined your abilities, I want you to know that."

"G is right." Sam nods.

"We could always use someone like you in the field."

Her lips curve upwards. "Thanks guys, but I belong with the computers."

* * *

**A/N: **_What do you think? For me, this could be a short story with just Nell. Yes, I know the lack of interaction between Callen and Nell in this one is limited. The other part will focus on Callen entirely, and it will go back and forth. _


	2. Part II

**A/N: **_Thanks for the reviews, follows, favorites, and reads. I want to clarify something, just because I feel the need to. This is romance, __friendship, meaning there will be flirting, an undeniable attraction, and etc. I've read enough romance novels to know. Plus, with Callen and Nell, I __believe the best way to write a story - a story in eight parts - is to take it slow. If you wanted to read a faster pace story, this isn't the one. _

* * *

**PART II**

_"We are our stars, and we deserve to twinkle." — Marilyn Monroe._

It has been two weeks since the incident.

And Callen finds himself spending more time with the youngest member of the team. There's something riveting about the way Nell has managed to defend herself from the unsub; it renders him a deep admiration for the young analyst. He never thought that she could be capable of pulling off those moves.

Granted, she's one of the department's professionals who can research, analyze, present findings to make the most logical sense, through a tough exterior barrier. She can handle technological advances well. It's in her job's description, after all. Her and Eric both. Compared to those two, the rest of them appear like complete morons in the OSP when it comes to technology.

Sam always struggles with pushing those buttons on the array of technological equipment in the department. Kensi and Deeks may be better at handling the simple notions, but they can't unquestionably hack into an intricate system of codes. And for him, _he's as good as any animal learning how to get across encryption on the web. _Yet, Nell aces mastering the skills of handling a weapon, while having an eye for persistent accuracies (of course every special agent is trained to handle a gun).

Seeing her with a gun releases something uncharacteristic of him that he can't define. _Fondness, maybe? _

The confidence radiating from her posture as she reaches the trigger; how she quickly shoots; and the accurateness in her shots add to his newly-found veneration for her. She has her eyes on the target like any good agent would, and learns to move when shooting in dimmed lightening. Nell exhibits the vital skills needed of any good shooter.

"Hey, Callen," Nell greets him as she removes the earmuff from her ears, takes out of the shooting shield from her face, and places the revolver back into its holster. "How do you find my shooting? I aced it, didn't I?"

"Can't argue there." Callen leans back on the wall. "I must say I'm surprised by the way you handled a gun. Like a pro."

"Well, Agent Callen, I'm better at other things besides a computer. You haven't spent much time with me. I bet I can take you out in a shoot-off. What do you say? Want to bet on it?"

She bats her eyelashes at him, and he can't resist the urge to laugh. The simple fluttering of her lashes reminds him of the callowness blended in her expression. The sass in her voice tells him to the unlearned eyes, she appears as this defenseless woman, but she has more in her that has gone unnoticed by him. _Too long for that matter._ As team leader, he should know what his teammates can do and what they can't do. But for too long, he always looked at Nell as the girl behind the computer; she was never in the fields until that one time.

"Callen." Her voice, gentle and sassy as ever, breaks him away from his thoughts, forcing him to look up at her. "So, are you in, or not?"

He smirks — just a small pouting of the lips; a slight narrowing of the eyes; and a titling of the head. "Wish I could, Nell, but I'm squeezed for time. Got a case to wrap up. But if the offer's still on the table, count me in."

She appears to think about it. "Certainly. I know I can take your ass in a shoot-off. I can smell it."

"If I were you, I wouldn't be so sure. I'm quite skilled in the field. Have been for a long time," he informs her, hoping to instill some fear in her confidence.

She chuckles softly. "Oh, we will see about that, now, wouldn't we? And if I happen to lose," she replies, stumbling a little on the last part, "I won't mind learning those highly-spoken skills of yours."

"Okay, Nell, you got it."

Nell looks at him, relaxing her shoulders. "Great. Should we meet here, oh say, the same time, tomorrow?"

Slumping his shoulders, he furrows his eyebrows at her. "Works for me if it works for you."

"I can't wait to beat you, Agent Callen, I just know I'll win. It's the feeling," she adds, bursting with confidence. "Plus, if I don't, I'll have access to some pretty killer moves. Either way, I gain something in return: the undeniable feeling of defeating one of the legends in NCIS, or learn some awesome moves."

_What do I gain? _There's nothing that he can think that will be of importance that Nell has to offer to him, but the pleasure of her company.

A little smile tugs at his upper lip at the thought.

* * *

After a killer day chasing down a sleezeball set on demolishing a marine get-together cruise themed party, Callen wants nothing more than a glass of hard gin over ice. No, make that more than a couple of glasses. He earns it, after all; his job calls for drastic measures, and to take those measures, alcohol does wonders for the stress. Too bad, he couldn't go to the bar with the rest of the gang, but a promise is a promise. He always keep his words, and he isn't going to start backing out now.

_Where is Nell?_ She said to meet her in the training room at 10'o clock, just like yesterday. Well, they rescheduled their plan as the case drags on longer than predicted. _She didn't cancel, did she? It isn't like Nell to bail out on anything without informing anyone (or in this case, him)__; she must be running late_, he concludes.

He braces back on the wall, rubbing the back of his neck; trying to avoid a smirk that seems to play across his features. The click of the door has him looking up. "I thought you weren't coming," he lets out, adding more texture to his voice.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world." Nell settles her bag on the table. "Plus, I had some work to do. Tie up some loose ends."

He raises an eyebrow. "On the case?"

"Trying to think of a plausible explanation why I couldn't join Hetty or the guys for drinks. I think she was on to me. I can feel it."

The thought brings on a slight shiver which she shakes off.

How Hetty instills so much fear in all of them — he knows the answer to that. The woman is stronger than she looks, smarter than she acts — she appears to always have a psychic intuition. But he knows Hetty better than that. She is simply looking out for her team, and just happens to keep an eye on them: very closely indeed.

"Hetty gave me this look, 'don't use NCIS equipments off the clock.' I knew she was on to me at that moment." She pauses for a moment, bitting her lower lips in the process. "And… I got this strange vibe from Deeks. Deeks knew that I was going against NCIS' rules. He gave me that look —"

"Deeks? Deeks sent you a signal about 'doing' the right thing?" He couldn't hide the amusement in his voice. This is the first time he has seen her this worked up over nothing. She's most likely reading what's not beneath the surface, and somehow, buying into some look Deeks gives her. As if he's one to follow NCIS guidelines.

"Yes, but, that's besides the point. Hetty suspected something," she adds, lowering her voice down.

He takes brief glances around the room. "Hey, if we are careful enough, our little deal can remain invisible to Hetty's eyes. Unless, of course, you're having second thoughts about this little deal of ours; that's fine by me." _That should calm her down a notch; nothing gets unnoticed by Hetty. _Callen has a feeling that her sudden worry has nothing to do with Hetty or their deal. _The assault, maybe?_ The man did assaulted her even if she will not admit it, but he isn't one to pry his nose in others' affaires. When she wants to talk, he will be there; the team will listen.

She breathes out a long and exhausted sigh. "A little fun won't hurt. I won't surrender if it was the last thing I had to do. All of those hours I spent practicing would go to waste, and I really look forward to beating you. **_Fair and Square_**," Nell emphasizes on the last part, pointing to him. 'Don't go easy on me' is written as clear as day across her face.

"Good. I wasn't planning on a withdrawal. Don't know what I would do with my time. Can't go to the bar without avoiding questions from Sam, Deeks, and Kens. Especially if we walked in together."

_That would be so bad, and knowing them, who knows what weird ideas they would come up with. _Sam won't let him live it down, neither would Kens and Deeks.

"You don't think… they would have thought we were having some sort of—"

"Relationship. I wouldn't put it beneath them. Both of us refused to go out to drinks, and then, just happen to show up together. Or at a similar time." He looks at her, detecting an amused look on her expression, from the way wrinkles cross her eyebrows. "They do enough teasing with you and Eric. Us arriving in similar time-slots wouldn't have made a difference."

"Yeah, Eric and me."

Before he notices, he starts studying her: the way her voice halts a little at the mention of Eric. It surprises him, really. Everyone in the office knows that Eric and Nell work so well due to the frivolous flirting, persistent teasing, and sharing the same interests. If they take the time to mull over the possibilities — if it develops into something more — he wouldn't know. And could care less. What his teammates choose to do on their personal time is no business on his; that doesn't IMPLY he will let them off that easily without bantering them.

"Callen, should we get started?"

"Absolutely. Nell, have to say, I didn't even practice for our little competition. So, if I win… well, let's leave it at that."

"Even if I lose, which I'll do my very best to avoid, I can handle it. Agent Callen, I warn you to not get ahead of yourself, or else you might just be surprised. Don't underestimate me."

Whenever 'Agent Callen' is mentioned, it comes across as if she's flirting with him. He laughs at the idea; it is farcical, as can be.

"Gotcha. I don't doubt your abilities. You can shoot, that, I give you."

She clasps her hands in agreement. "Let's get started then, now that we're in agreement."

* * *

Callen eyes her keenly.

She weighs the firearm in her hands to maintain an estimated weight between the gun's weight and her own. Feeling satisfied, he thinks, she moves to a more powerful stance, to get a better aim. Strong, erect, alert. Once she maintains just that, she rechecks her safety equipments, and tightens her grip around the firearm. He could see a slight smile of content across her lips, as she fires three shots. The first shot hits the target directly at the bull's eyes, the second shot slitters in the target, while making it to the bull's eyes too, and he watches closely for the third shot, it barely makes it to receive a spot on the target. _Not bad, two out of three._

He bites back a chuckle as she stomps her feet, hard, across the floor. This is unlike her; he always believed that she would be one to admit defeat gracefully.

_There's a good chance he might screw up on his shots. _He _won't _and _can't _go easy on her, so that theory remains likely unattainable, seeing that he also is in good spirits.

His eyes rake over her; maybe it's because of her gracelessness, or maybe he is tired of letting his eyes wander around aimlessly. He sucks in his breath. She's still battling with the floor, and the dimmed light brings out a natural glow to her cheeks. The swirls of titian-red hair collapses over her shoulders, revealing her silky neck base. Moving his gaze upper until it reaches her lips, while they are small, pale, chapped, he finds them intriguing, to say the least. He continues, traveling lower and lower, discovering the curves of her breast, small and rounded. Tracing the line behind her tights, smooth and short. He feels a sensual burn uncoil in his gut. It's at that moment he catches his senses for his, oh, so, very, lewd thoughts.

He's G Callen. And G Callen doesn't have unprofessional thoughts about his younger colleague. _Fuck, those thoughts are just wrong on so many levels. What had overcome him to surface up such vile thoughts?_

"Callen." She walks over to him. "You ready?"

"Those were good shots. Not bad," he congratulates her in a dark and husky voice. He breathes down the grittiness in his voice, and tries to sound normal again. "I don't know about you, but I feel that you could win."

She throws darts in his direction. "I want a fair match. Don't you dare go easy on me." It's as if she is threatening him while sounding pleasant as well.

Moments ago, he was gawking at her, and thankfully, she doesn't seem to notice. "You got it. I like a fair match."

"Callen," she calls, causing him to face her, "I know I could trust you. Good luck."

"We'll see if luck's with me on this one."

Removing his gun from its hostler, he trails over the texture, and relaxes at the touch. A gun comforts him, in the way, a gun can comfort. He grips the firearm, composes his posture, and focuses his aim directly on the target. Firing three shots, sound shots, he notes his aim. First shot, directly hit the target in the bull 's eye; second shot, lands on the bull's eye; and third shot, is also a success. _That was an unfair win. He should have went easy on her, _he thinks as he watches the blank expression on her face, _she is unlike any woman he feels attracted to. Either he's bewitched by her seamless beauty, or he lusts for a woman's body. God knows how long it has been since he slept with a woman, just slept, with her there. _

Shaking the thought away, he turns to face her. "I hope you aren't too disappointed."

Her face softens. "No, I was impressed, actually. I could learn a few of your killer moves. But since I lost," she slows down, "that's out of the question. You haven't told me what you wanted if you won. _You did win._"

He creases his eyebrow, thinking about it. "I haven't really thought about it. Wasn't really planning on winning."

"You were going to take it easy on me?"

"Yes, I had more experience with a gun than you. Then, you kept on insisting on a fair match, and I knew I had to give you one."

"Thanks for giving me a fair match. I wouldn't feel right about having an undeserving shoot-off. That way, I wouldn't be able to have some helpful hints point out by a skilled shooter, now, would I, Agent Callen?"

The way his name rolls off her tongue resurfaces that heat in an area he wishes it hasn't went to. "Helpful hints to being a better agent?"

She arches an eyebrow in confusion. "Yes. Why is that out of the question?"

"I could teach you some of my moves. Help you achieve a better focus. A better posture. That's my bargain."

She frowns. "I hope this has nothing to do with my earlier confess — because if it does, I just can't accept it. It doesn't feel right."

"No, it has nothing to do with that. I think it's a good idea. Or I could use some cash. How does a hundred sound?"

"A hundred? I don't think your shots were that good to deserve a hundred dollars. Maybe twenty bucks?" Nell reaches in her purse, fishing out a crisp bill, handing it to Callen.

Callen rejects it, shoving her outstretched hand away. "A hundred dollars or those shooting lessons? Your pick."

She sighs. "You do drive a hard bargain. I accept your offer of those lessons. When do we start?" she asks, chipper again.

"Whenever we have free time. I think we better go to a shooting range rather than use NCIS training room. Hetty won't appreciate us using the training room on our _personal_ time."

"I was going to suggest the same. I'm going to head out. Goodnight, Callen."

Watching her walk out, it dawns on him the impact of his decision. _Hell, no, this can't be good, if he continues to have those thoughts. _

They are only a one-time deal, right?


	3. Part III

_**PART III**_

_"We are our stars, and we deserve to twinkle." — Marilyn Monroe._

* * *

"Don't unpack until I tell you." Callen grips Nell's forearm, dragging and pulling her toward the door. If the waitress senses a different vibe from him dragging her through the doors, she hasn't brought it up. "And always warm up before firing shots."

"Don't unpack? I won't." She rolls her eyes when they reach his apartment. "I will not disappoint you in 'the perfect student' department. I've a knack for that kind of thing. And Agent Callen, I know my way around a gun: disassembling and assembling one. I also know **_how_** to use a gun."

Lovely.

He believes that her abilities are inept — that she needs to be handle like a child —that she will forget to relax her muscles before shooting. He needs to loosen up. This is the first time she sees him reacting like this; he is always the imperturbable one, knowing how and what to do in any given situation. While his worries are what bother her, she can't get rid of the feeling that she might just see a frivolous Callen. That is **_if_** she does anything wrong. She might do that just to see his reaction.

She smiles at the image of him rushing to her if she forgets to wear her earmuffs or put on her shooting shield.

"Make yourself at home while I get changed into something more comfortable. And don't wander around." She senses the sternness in his voice. "Don't do anything that I wouldn't do." He flashes her a 'stay right there' look and 'don't make me regret inviting you to my personal training room.'

"I promise I'll behave. Too bad, the rest of the team can't know that you invited me to your apartment," she speaks loudly so that he can hear her.

"God knows what images they'll get into their heads if that happened," he responds, and she can feel him smirking when he says that.

"I agree."

* * *

She seats herself down on the couch — the cushion surprisedly feels like heavens to her aching back — she hasn't been sleeping well lately. If there's anyone she thinks would have a spacious room with little to none furnitures, it'd be Callen, and she stands correct. Other than the brown leather couch, two wooden chairs, and a small stone-colored table, it's vacant compared to hers.

Living in an enclosed area would never work for Callen. She hasn't noticed that Callen has returned.

"Nell?"

There is something in his voice that gives her tingles.

Damn his voice.

"Hey," she says, feeling a bit flush at the sight of his button down shirt, "I'm ready to witness those moves that make you one of the best."

"You haven't unpacked?"

Crap, she hasn't. There goes her chance at seeing a frivolous Callen, and if, there's another chance, she isn't going to miss it. "I told I won't. I didn't."

He chuckles. "Nell, you know, I was just jokin'?" He tilts his head in her direction when she turns away from him. "It was just a joke, Nell, I didn't meant anything by it."

"I know." She turns around, lifting the enclosed envelope in her hands. "Something of yours?"

He glances at the envelope for a brief moment, and without warning her, he snaps it out of her hands.

"I…" Nell looks at him with a confused expression on her face. This is Callen, and she knows better than to question him about what's in it. So, instead of bringing up what just occurrs, she drops it. "Do you've a special first's shot method that you're gonna share with me?"

His face softens. "You've to earn it first before I can tell you."

She crosses her hands across her chest, and arches an eyebrow upwards. "Earn it? I thought we agreed to you teaching me all of your special moves. Did I get the wrong idea?" There's a hint of immaturity blended in with displeasure in her voice; she hasn't tried to add that texture in. _Oh, that's a terrible idea. Very terrible. _Maybe Callen doesn't notice it. He might not bring it up. He can't. She can't act like a kid around the man she admires, respects, finds so damn attractive.

Damn his cheekbones, those translucent baby blues of his, that signature smirk of his — everything about him is just irresistible.

"Nell, you okay? You just blanked out. That has nothing…" He refrains from continuing that phrase. "What was up with that pouty look?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just fine." She breaks away from her thoughts. "Are there any rules I need to follow?"

She gets up from the couch, empties the content from her duffel bag, and focuses her attention to him.

"No, I've none."

Nell smiles; suddenly feeling relief that Callen chooses not to bring up her pouty expression again. It dawns on her how badly she needs to rejuvenate after the stress in her life from the reaction she just has with her pouty expression.

Stress that she really doesn't want to discuss.

Certainly, Callen is everything she ever inspires to be as a special agent. G Callen is a damn good special agent, if not the best. Sure, she's good in the tech's department, but she knows she has the skills needed to be out in the fields. It's nice to be out in the field, even if, she won't admit it to anyone or herself yet.

"Okay," she answers, waiting for his signal to start. "I'm ready to start about any minute now."

She starts putting on her equipments, but Callen stops her, flashing her one of those looks, 'I need to do this ASAP.'

"I gotta go now."

She sighs.

When she thinks that they could actually practice, he has some work-related issues to deal to with.

"Nell?"

"Yeah?"

He looks at the clock then at her. "You've to leave too."

"I know." Meticulously, she places her shooting gears in the bag. "I know. I've to pack. I need a minute or two," she says, her voice wearing down.

Finished with her packing, she is surprised that he remains there until she's ready to leave. But Callen values his privacy, and she understands that. From his upbringing, that's believable, she doesn't know a lot about him, but from what she hears, he's a broken man.

"We need to reschedule for later. I called you a cab," he tells her, "You'll have those shooting lessons, that, I promise."

There goes that signature smirk of his again.

"I would think so. I won them fair and square." She tightens the grip on the handle on the bag. "I did won them fair and square, right?"

"You did. Wouldn't lie to you, Nell. You're one heck of a shooter. Just need to pay close attention to your surroundings."

She looks at him, up and down. "I can spot a liar. You're making a bad decision if you're lying to me." She places a finger on his chest. "Don't lie to me, Agent Callen. I'll know if you did."

"Am I lying, Nell?"

She searches for any signs of squinting eyes, nibbling lips, awkward flaps of ear, rubbing of hands together, sweaty palms, but finds none. "No, you aren't."

"Won't lie to you, Nell. I've no reason to."

"I know that."

Just then, the cab pulls up.

"I might teach you a few tricks of mine." She rolls up the windows. "I've some great tricks."

Callen smiles at her — a slight curving of his lips. "Lookin' forward to that, Nell."

"I'm gonna think of ways I can defeat one of the greatest legend in NCIS," she says to him, signaling the driver to go. "It'll be one hell of a training session."

"Bet it will be," Callen says, "It'll be."

"You can count on that," she shouts as the car drives away, and manages to wave him goodbye.

Nell relaxes in the comfort of the carseat, ignoring the musky smell of mustard, gas fumes, and that taxi's smell from the car. That training session would be very interesting. With that thought in mind, her drooping eyelids close. She knows that she is tired, just not that much.

Somehow, she finds guns, computers, and _Callen _in her dreams.

* * *

**A/N: **_I'm sorry for the short chapter, but it tells the scene for me. Leave your thoughts if you want to. This is very slow, I can tell, so don't expect a definite ending. You know, the ending with a big kiss. I like to write __realistically, and these two will take more than eight parts to ever enter into a relationship. There will be certain romantic elements - you'll discover them soon enough._


	4. Part IV

**PART IV**

_"We are our stars, and we deserve to twinkle." — Marilyn Monroe._

* * *

_Tell me this,_

_if dirt covers all,_

_if rain washes it all away,_

_if air transports it back, _

_then I'm mist,_

_hiding behind the mask,_

_slowly watching it,_

_gaining pleasure,_

_for I know the truth,_

_can you figure out this riddle?_

_ — Stephen Font, confession. _

Before Callen decides to reschedule the practice, he looks over Stephen Font's confession, delving long and hard into the hidden meaning behind Stephen's riddle. Before Stephen receives his conviction, he whispers those words to Nell, which, how, he manages to get ahold of that information, he isn't obliged to say.

Hiding behind the mask?

_Hiding. Is he really concealing the truth, or was he trying to evoke some sort of response from Nell?_

What does mask symbolize?

_The truth. But what's the truth?_

Hiding behind what?

_His claim of being the perfect gentleman ? Killing the marine? Lying about all of those victims?_

It has to be one of those, but which one, he isn't quite sure. He knows that it must be all of them combined, and that Nell has already deciphered the vague clues in the riddle, but to ask her what it means, would be stupid on his part, as she would know that he has breeched her privacy.

Closing the folder, Callen stocks the file neatly and safely away from Nell's reach as she is going to arrive any minute now, and if she happens to find out that he has been following up on the case, things aren't going to go well in his department. Plus, he much rather practice firearm and throw some snide remarks at her, or has some of those remarks thrown at him.

_She's a sassy little vixen, _he chuckles at the thought, _his fire-spirited ginger firearm partner. _She has a tongue that lashes fire, but burns the ashes with her use of subtle words. One can never really figure out what is going on in that little head of hers, or try to think of the things she might do. It's impossible to think of, and the reasonings can be implausible.

The doorbell rings disturbing Callen from the thoughts he loves having.

* * *

"Nell, you ready? Gotta warn you, this isn't gonna be easy." He braces a hand on the door, blocking her entrance. _Unless you were looking for something easier, but knowing Nell, she loves a good challenge. _"If you were, you know, predicting practice with less individual-work, and with less accuracies involved. Afraid this isn't gonna be for you."

Nell places her duffel bag on the ground, and blows away the loose strand of hair on her face.

"Yeah, I think, I got into this, fully informed about how training would likely be. Plus, I love a good challenge. Are you afraid that," she says, low and seductive, leaning in, her lips almost reaching his ears, "you will lose, and I'll be the teacher, and you, the student, Agent Callen."

"Oh, yeah, Nell, don't think that will happen, but I like how you think. Very optimistic thoughts. Keep them coming. You'll need them."

"You should never be that confident in your abilities. Smugness is never a good trait. You'll definitely change your opinion of me **_when I kick your ass_**_,_" Nell says, emphasizing on the last phrase.

"Ah, Nell, I hope what you say is true. I'd love to have someone kickin' my ass at shooting for once. Haven't met anyone yet. Hope you're the one to beat my records."

_It's cute that she's that confident in her abilities._

_Not really._

_But it'll be… interesting if she manages to outwit him in something he excels in._

"Good. Can I come in, now?" She peers over his shoulders, moving her lips uncomfortably, and moving her feet every few seconds. "I have to, uh, use, the, uh, bathroom. I, uh, forgot, to use it before I, uh, came here." She laughs, almost too nervously.

Callen looks down on her with glimmering eyes of surprise, and takes his hand away from the door, giving her almost an entrance inside his apartment. "Nell, you just had to ask. I wouldn't have laughed at you."

Nell squeezes in behind Callen, struggling to avoid brushing her hands or any part of her against his frame. "I know. We were just having such a lovely discussion that I didn't want to spoil our fun."

"I believe you, Nell."

He doesn't, not for a second. _She is just_, he guesses, t_oo embarrassed to ask to use his bathroom._

"Good. Now that I got that out the way. Where's, um, the bathroom?" She steps inside his apartment, handing Callen her bag, its blue color looks odd against his white design-free tee-shirt, and his cerulean jeans.

"Go to the kitchen, take two steps away from it, and there's the bathroom." He points to the left. "You'll be there in no time."

She rolls her eyes. "Couldn't have you went with something along the line, 'two steps from the kitchen?' It would have been easier."

"Yes, but, easy is too easy."

_It is. _

There's always something up when it comes to easy. If the clues always connect, there's something wrong. Usually. With his line of work, he likes to to steer away when the going gets too easy; he rather the going to be tough.

"Okay. So, two steps to the left from the kitchen, right?" she asks anxiously, drumming her fingers against her chest.

"That's about it."

"Thanks," she says quickly, and walks away slowly, but when Callen tries to spot her, he sees her rushing when she believes he's away from her sight.

_Good, maybe, I have time to go through those files again, now that she's out of my sight. _He knows he is being risky, but ever since he receives the files, he's been anxious to go through them thoroughly, and hasn't had the time. Even though, he knows it's wrong to invade her privacy like this.

* * *

Callen leans back in his chair and closes his eyes; the sound of his own breathing disturbs the lingering thoughts on his mind. He only wants to shut his eyes for a few seconds, to ponder on about the results in the files, to understand if there is any real gravity behind the new information… but he couldn't do it. Every time, he closes his eyes, he would hear the soft inhales and exhales he take, but the thoughts he really wants to focus on would disappear, hidden deep inside his mind, buried and lost for a while. He has to dig — to fork up the memories again — he shouldn't even be doing this. He knows he shouldn't.

_This isn't right, and you know it,_ he knows this too well, _you promised to let it go until she's ready to talk. Until she wants to let you…no, the team in. You can be her confidant during practices, let her know she can trust you, and she'll talk. _But he couldn't let her be, not like this, it doesn't sit right with him. He needs to be well-informed about what has went down in the alley, her emotional's status…

Any good team leader would want that, right? He's just looking out for her, just like the rest of the team. They both want the same thing: for her to talk about the incident, to let them in, and to admit that it has affected her, even if it is to the slightest degree.

Nell hides behind her work, avoids talks of the incident, as if she's the leaf tucked away in the safety of the branch. And sooner or later, it's going to hit her, the full impact of it all, the branch is going to break off, and the leave will wither away, changing from its once vibrant green to a crackling brown. And as it goes through these changes, it will chip off, piece by piece, and gravity will take hold of it, and throw the withering leaf to the hard and cold ground. For that to happen to Nell — he won't let it — she might be much tougher than she looks, but everyone has a breaking point — and he's going to give life back to the rotten edges in her leaf.

That he promises.

Forever and always.

* * *

The results of his inquiry — the answers in the files — it doesn't sum up. If this new information is right, that means NCIS is in the wrong. NCIS has been wrong before, but this has a different feel to it. It involves…

_Nell._

Does she know?

_Of course, she knew. _

That explains everything; the sudden interest in practicing with him; the odd looks he receives from her; and Nell's withdrawal from the team.

_Fuck. He was really stupid. _

These files conform it, though, and he understands, finally understand what has occurred.

_Nell was wrong. She captured the wrong guy, staked out for the wrong one…and he hadn't double-checked for the missing facts, or didn't even considered if the man was innocent. _

Stephen, he runs his fingers over the name-tab, is a copycat of the original killer. A really damn good one. Too good. Apparently, he has tackled down the wrong guy too.

"Agent Callen, is something bothering you?" Nell asks, her eyes shifting from the firearm in her hands falling to the files in his hands for the first time.

"Nell. Sit down. We need to talk," he states calmly, his gaze not wandering from the files.

"What are those files for? C'mon, tell me, you aren't bringing work on our first official practice? That's not nice, Agent Callen. I was looking forward to practice, and not having anything to do with work."

She grins at him cheekily.

"Nell, there's something I need to tell you, and I'm sure you know this already. Stephen Font isn't the killer, but we can get him on assault charges and attempted murder, as I'm sure he's gonna try to kill. More sooner or later when he gets released." He looks at her, really looks at her, and notices that the warm smile on her lips fades away so that a scorn finds itself on her cheeks. "Stephen has, no, was, communicating with the killer, and you were the last name he mentioned. Nell, I think you should change your routines. Maybe take a vacation."

"No, I will not do any of that, Callen. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself," she points out to him, confident in her words. "If you're worried about the unsub attacking me, I did a full study on him. I know his weak spots and his strong spots."

"Nell, I don't doubt your abilities, but I think it's best if you would give this a rest. And one more thing," he starts, but the words drifts off his lips, "did you know about this?"

Nell seats herself on the armchair across him; her arm resting on the ledge of the chair. Her arm blends it with its light creamy color. Sitting upright, he can't help, but notice how perfect her body fits along the foam; how the chair seems to bring out her best features. The succulent pink color of her lips. The tight fit of the shirt that clings to her body to show the outline of her honey soft breasts. The loose fit of the sweats that shows her small legs that when wrapped around his …_ no, damn it, he wasn't thinking of her like this again. This isn't right. This would never be right. He knows better than to have vulgar thoughts about Nell._

"Yes and no. I suspected that something was off. Stephen, the copycat, gave up too easily. In my research, Stephen, was not someone who gives up that easily. If anything, it keeps him coming back for more. It gives him power; he feeds off weakness."

"Okay, Nell, then why didn't you say something?" Callen says, clasping his hands together. "This isn't like you to let info like this go to the dumps."

"You're right. This isn't like me. But after Stephen — the copycat — tried to force himself on me — the research I had done went down the drain. I guess I was in shock. I didn't want to admit it." She taps her fingers against her legs; the color draining away from her face. "But my emotions clouded my judgement. It wasn't until a few days that I decided to look back at the case that I discovered it. I was gonna tell Hetty and you, of course, but I wanted to be sure if this was right. I phoned a friend, and got Stephen's whereabouts. So, I contacted Stephen, and interrogated him without him knowing. It all came back to me. Stephen was innocent. I was gonna call Hetty and let her know, but you called and asked to reschedule our practice for now," she finishes off, looking at Callen, and giving him a blank stare.

He gets up.

"Okay, Nell, but gotta warn you, Hetty isn't gonna like this. You should have told her earlier on. Thank you for telling me all of this. I know everything has been hard on you." He stiffens up as he nears closer to her. Her scent, a cherry blossom smell, makes him want to take her in his arms, and buries himself deep inside the comfort of her shoulders. _Oh, no, not this again. _"Thank you for trusting me enough to let me in. I assume that I was the first that you informed about this?" It feels good that he was, in a way, her confidant. _Oh, if only, he could feel her against him, those legs of hers wrapped around his, those lips nibbling on his own, or to be inside… no, he can't continue to have these thoughts. _

"No," she stumbles on the word, "I told Eric and asked him to keep it a secret. I always feel safe and protective around Eric. Like I can tell him everything."

"Oh," he lets out, folding his arms across his chest. "Good. Eric's trustworthy. Hetty is gonna have both of your asses on a plate, but I'm much as responsible as the two of you. I lied to her too."

Her face colors, a light red, clearly in amusement. "Really? I would think so, Agent Callen, having these files in the open like this," she teases as she picks a file up. "This is clearly not a good idea. You should have more careful and secretive. I've heard how secretive you were, but seeing these files like this here in the open, I'm doubting that you ever were really secretive about your life."

"Gotta do what has to be done. Never had the time to put them away. You appeared so sudden. You know, I was going to put them away before you finished freshening up.."

Nell laughs, rolling her eyes. "I don't doubt your reasonings for a minute, Agent Callen. In fact, I believe you, completely and absolutely." Nell slows down and moves closer to Callen. "I never said how thankful I was for everything. For these practices. They mean everything to me. So, thanks for agreeing to doing these."

"We only had one practice."

"Yes, but—"

"I'm here for you always. For anyone in the team. Always."

Nell nods.

She lowers her hand to shake his, but in the process, stumbles on the file that, somehow, lands on the ground; her lips touching his. The brief contact of lips against lips. Callen cradles her head in his hands, capturing the misty look of hers in his mind. He wants so badly to really kiss her, but looking at her, he knows he can't do this. He breaks away. _She's too vulnerable right now, and deserve better than the mess that's him._

* * *

**A/N:** _I'm sorry for taking a month to update this. I'll try my best to update this, maybe, on a regular schedule, if I can. I wasn't planning on bringing Stephen back in, but to make Nell admit that the incident had affected her, and Callen to find things out, he needs to come back. Also, to not make this one another assault case, I add in that riddle. I think it's fairly simple to solve. And, yes, I know, Nell and Callen haven't had the practice yet, and it's already halfway through the story. So, what are your thoughts on this chapter? Good? Decent? Bad? Was the kiss, sort of, kiss, believable? _


	5. Part V

**PART V**

_**"We are our stars, and we deserve to twinkle." — Marilyn Monroe.**_

* * *

Kissing him, even if it is accidentally, is by far, the most imbecile thing she has ever done in her life, and she does not commit stupid mistakes like that. Stupid mistakes that could compromise her friendship with Callen, or put her job on the line. She treasures them both very dearly, and to lose them just like that, would be heartbreaking.

How couldn't she have seen the damn file?

_It was right there in the open; maybe if she had been a bit more attune with her surrounding, and not trying to express her gratitude to Callen for how forthcoming he was — that might have changed things. Just maybe. _

She is screwed.

Really screwed.

She can't think up of ways to act natural around Callen — she cannot ignore the fact that she enjoys feeling his lips against hers — cannot deny that she wants more from him — oh, she is going to jeopardize her friendship with Callen. And she really doesn't… can't let that happen.

Nell sighs; her whole world is crashing down before her. Everything she has worked for so hard doesn't mean anything to her. She can't let it mean anything. Callen. Callen means everything to her. He is her mentor, her friend, her secret love, and everything that she wants to be. Seeing him everyday when she goes to work; whenever she works on a case; trying to avoid his gaze; is just too much for her to handle.

This is unlike her to behave like this, but somewhere, deep inside of her, is that small feeling that she has compromised everything. Maybe she is overreacting especially when the kiss and everything else that has occurred that day is accidentally. Yet, she can't bury the feeling, regret, yearning, any longer. She really tries to understand what the hell is wrong with her. Why couldn't she just act normal like Callen? Why couldn't she call him up and explain everything? There is nothing wrong there, but she feels like she is standing on an edge, holding on that limp branch, trying to stay alive, but then, the limp grows limper and limper until she falls into despair.

Then it dawns on her.

Callen has nothing to do with all of this. It all has to do with her psychological problems with Stephen Font. She knows she's strong. Somewhere along the line, she avoids confrontation with the assault; when he tries to yank his tongue down her throat, she thinks she laughs it off, but it actually has impacted her. She has been so involved in the case that she doesn't feel her assault alone, but experiences what the dead marine or the other women has been through.

And to think that Stephen isn't the unsub makes her feel uneasy, a bit scared, and troubled. Of course, she could take care of herself, but the other woman, she couldn't save them. She is done with denying that the assault does not affect her, or that she has been too late to save the other victims of the real unsub (and who knows Stephen Font's victims too). Instead, she is going to try to dig behind the surface of her problems, and let it all out. She is going to tell Eric, no, Callen, everything, because she trusts him, and he has been looking out for her. The team deserves to know the truth too.

Nell Jones is no longer going to hide from her troubles, but is going to capture them with the help of Callen and the team.

* * *

**A/N:** _It's short. The other part will be like this with Callen. This is coming to an end, so I want to set the mood, and also to try to establish the characters' emotions. I'll most likely upload Part VI this week. So, tell me what you think? I love to hear your thoughts. _


	6. Part VI

**PART VI**

_"We are our stars, and we deserve to twinkle." — Marilyn Monroe._

* * *

It is stupid.

Really stupid of him to react like that.

When Nell's lips brushed against his, all he wants to do, is to take her in his arms, presses her body against him hard, and explore that pine and peach flavor of those lips. So, he cradles her head, soft yet small, into his hands. Feeling a part of her against him gives him very unprofessional thoughts. And he doesn't want, no, shouldn't, have those thoughts.

Nell is nearly seventeen years his junior and his co-worker.

From the moment, he starts thinking of her in an intimate way, he should have put an end to those thoughts right there and fast. At the moment, though, he thinks, those thoughts seem harmless. Plus, she has been wearing clothes, and he has been drinking more that two beers, so it could explain why he has been getting those thoughts.

It doesn't matter what he thinks, but what matters, is that he has been so close at that time to really kissing her.

Nell isn't a child anymore, and it is at that time, he fully realizes that she is a woman.

And he is attracted to her.

He wishes that is a lie, that these thoughts are fabricated in his mind, but he has to face the facts. Nell Jones is very beautiful, and when she is in the room, she brings a sense of hope to his messed-up life. In a way, he feels that with her, he has a chance of leading a normal life and a normal love life. Of course, she most likely doesn't feel that way toward him, but he doesn't care.

Callen loves seeing her holding a gun and owning it.

He will continue the practices, and try to control his attraction when he's around her.


	7. Part VII

**A/N: **_This is the last part. The longer I left this, the more crappier I wrote, and the more confused about the direction of this I grew. I'm sorry if this seemed rushed. I hoped this wasn't that bad. I will never write a story while watching Thrones. It didn't do good for this story. Thanks for the views, reads, reviews, favorites, and follows. I hoped you liked this._

* * *

**_PART VII_**

**_"We are our stars, and we deserve to twinkle." — Marilyn Monroe._**

The soft kisses of the harsh wind on her skin; the ghostly whispers of the trees in her ears; the enchanting reflection of the moonlight over the small puddle; and the light droplets of ever so clear rain on her hair; are all what she needs now. These small delights of nature remind her of the change — the huge impact it will have on her life — she is going to make. For so long, she locks everything about that incident with Font, deep inside of her, and now, she is going to unlock them. Memories that burn like fire whenever she thinks about them. Memories that kill like deadly frostbites when she sees herself in the alley again with Font. To let Callen — the team in — is going to be a challenge; one that she isn't ready to face, but is going to do it. She has to.

This needs to end now.

"Nell? What are you doing out so late?"

Keeping her eyes away from the puddle, she turns around, faking a smile that appears genuine.

"I, uh, was just taking a stroll. I like the quietness here. It's hard to find anywhere quiet in LA," Nell lets out, twirling her boots in wet grass, and trailing her hands down the comforting material of her raincoat. "What brings you here, Agent Callen? I never took you as a man of nature."

"I'm not. Just needed some fresh air. Had a lot of my mind."

"Oh," she says, suddenly interested, "anything that might interest me?"

Callen flashes her one of those looks; his signature smirk, with the cool frost in his eyes. "No, I'm afraid not. Personal matters. Sorry to have disappointed you."

"That's too bad. I was thinking here that you were figuring out what was going to happen to our practices." She looks at him; her eyes taunting and teasing him. "Come to think of it, we haven't really had a 'real' practice."

"About that, I think it'd be best if we forgot about it," Callen says in a soft voice.

"No, no, no! Agent Callen," she says, pulling him by his shirt, "I deserve those lessons. I won them fair and square. You can't just quit them when you haven't even taught me anything."

"Relax, Nell, I was just joking." Callen laughs, pulling her hands away, and it is at that moment, she warms up from the heat that his fingers have on hers. She feels heat rushing through her entire body from her toes to her cheeks. And she hates that the moon has illuminated over her, and Callen sees the redness in her cheeks. "Nell, you okay?"

"Yeah, uh, I'm good."

"You sure about that?" He squeezes her hands gently. "You're heating up. We better get you inside before you get sick."

"Callen, I'm fine. It's nothing really," she assures him.

"G."

"Huh?"

"It's G. Call me G."

A strong wind blows, sweeping over her, and sends her in the comfort of Callen's chest.

"G — are you sure of that? You just don't let anyone call you that." She releases herself from Callen's embrace, but he pulls her back in. The coldness of his shirt feels just right against the heat going through her now. "Have I finally earn that respect?"

"Guess you did."

"Interesting." She laughs softly. "G, we need to talk."

"I was thinking the same. We need to get you inside first."

He pulls her in comfortably, and heads for her apartment.

* * *

The frigid air in the house, instead of drawing out the heat, sends shivers down her spine. Shivers like cold shards of glass hardening in the ice, breathing down on her skin with the icy breath of winter, and melting all over on her body. She feels so cold; the need for warmth becomes too much for her, as if she wants to bury herself in the radiant yet deadly heat of the sun. It is at that moment that it dawns on her: she is sick.

_It's funny, _she thinks, _spending so many hours in the ice-cold water in the pool, and thinking nothing bad was going to happen was too good to be true._

When she admits she wants, no, needs help, everything becomes so unclear, like walking through burning sand, but not knowing how to get off it. But when she is in the water, everything becomes clearer, and she couldn't stop going. Stop spending so many hours in the water. In a way, the pool is her conflict, and the water is the way to end her conflict. The icy touch of the water melts the heated touch of her feelings toward Callen, and the case with Font.

Now, she knows, really does, that that has been a cowardice thing to do. Once, she believes, this — Font, the case, Callen — are all behind her. Instead, she hasn't recovered, and her cries for help aren't really real.

In a way, she wants help, but at the same time, doesn't want it at all.

_Oh, why does it have to be like this? Why do I have to be like this?_

It confuses her about her need for help, and her rejection of it when it's offered to her.

Someday, she will accept help, but for now, she will try to figure out why it is all so damn confusing.

* * *

"Nell?"

Callen throws the blanket over her, and hands her the warm coca.

She sips the hot coca; the liquid burns her tongue, as if she has shoved it through the flames. Yet, it still doesn't take the coldness away, if anything, she feels colder. The heat from the blanket and coca fail to warm her up.

"Nell?" Callen puts a hand on her forehead. "You don't look so well. We should get you to a doctor."

"I'm fine," she whispers; shivering. "Thanks for looking out for me."

Callen scoots over; his eyes caring and earnest. He looks at Nell, and sees how sick she looks. She is so pale with eyes so red, and she shivers so often. He reaches for her hand, takes them in his, and rubs them.

"Nell, look at me." He tilts her cheeks so she is facing me. "You're sick. And I think we can talk about this another time. Right now, you need to go see a doctor."

"No," she lets out in a soft voice. Her throat itches; her eyes burns; and she feels so weak. "We need to talk now."

"Nell —"

"No, listen to me." One sneeze. Two sneezes. Three sneezes. "I like our practices. I like being out in the field. It's all so wonderful. But, truth be told, I never felt so helpless before. Never."

"You don't have to."

"It's okay, G. I need to let this out. I have been holding this in for too long." She pauses, and struggles to stay up. "Font could have killed me, and I, would have let it happen. Something happened. I don't know what or how, but I froze. Froze for too long. It was a surprise I defended myself."

"Nell, look, being in the field is tough. It's normal for you to react that way. Heck, I might have reacted the same way if I were in your shoes." He laughs. "But Nell, stop beating yourself over this. You did fine. You're alive, and a bit sick, but alive."

"G. I'm not sick." She coughs. "I'm not. And, G, I, uh, wanted you to save me. I know, it's stupid of me, but somehow, I forgot how to use a gun. How to use my hands. Font had gotten to me."

"From what I've seen, you were more than capable of taking care of yourself. Font didn't stand a chance."

She laughs. "…"

She sneaks up closer to him until her head leans perfectly against his chest. She feels herself getting warmer and warmer. Callen is her warmth.

"Callen, you know what's the funny thing," she says playfully, "I wanted you. Not because you were my partner or my practice buddy. But because you were always nice to me. You respected me. You taught me so much. And you were so damn attractive."

"Yeah," Callen asks, stroking her hair. "Nell; it's G."

"And when we kissed, Calle- G. It was nice. I liked it. Maybe it was because of the shock, but I wanted you to press me against the wall, and rip the clothes off me. And then, we would roll around on the floor, making sweet love."

"Nell—"

"We would have, but I couldn't."

"Go to sleep."

"Do you think of me as your sister?"

"Not a chance in hell. I sure as hell wouldn't want to think of my sister in a sexual way." He winks at her.

"Yeah." She laughs, drifting off.

_Damn, I shouldn't have added the whiskey in her hot chocolate, _Callen laughs.

Tomorrow, what awaits, they don't know, but they are still friends, and maybe, that can develop into something more.


End file.
